Lucy stopped walking and looked at me. “Did he tell you that?”
“No,” I said, “but it’s totally obvious. I’m sure even Fred knows.” Lucy looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head and continued to walk. “Luce?” I asked, catching up with her.
“It wouldn’t work,” she said definitively.
“Why not?” I asked. He wasn’t my type, but Elliot was cute, and they got along well—and he was much more of a prospect now that he’d learned to tone down the cologne.
“Because,” Lucy said. “He’s Elliot. He’s…” She paused, apparently having trouble coming up with an adjective. She took a glance down at her phone. “Let’s turn back!” she said cheerfully, turning in the other direction.
But I wasn’t going to let myself be distracted that easily. “Seriously,” I said. “He’s a nice guy. You guys get along great. He makes you laugh. Why not?”
“Because,” Lucy repeated. But she didn’t seem as dismissive as she had earlier, and I could tell that she was thinking about it.
“I’m just saying,” I said, as we rounded the corner before my house, “the nice guys are the ones worth dating.” I thought back to Henry, and all his small kindnesses, and felt a tiny pain in my heart.
“I know I haven’t really yelled at you about this like I wanted to,” Lucy said, looking at me closely, “but I still don’t understand why you dumped Henry.”
I winced at this even though it was technically accurate. “It was just going to be too hard,” I finally said. “I could tell. And I knew we were both going to get hurt.” I realized that we were now in front of the Crosby house, and I made myself look away as Lucy and I headed into my driveway.
“You want to know something about gymnastics?” Lucy asked, falling into step next to me.
“Always,” I said, deadpan, and she smiled at me.
“The thing is that people only get hurt—really hurt—when they’re trying to play it safe. That’s when people get injured, when they pull back at the last second because they’re scared. They hurt themselves and other people.”
This was all hitting home until the last part, and I frowned. “How do they hurt other people?”
“You know,” Lucy said, clearly stalling. “If they land on a spotter or something. The point is—”
“I get the point,” I assured her. We had reached the house, and I started to head to the porch when Lucy grabbed my hand and pulled me around to the back. “Lucy, what are you—”
“SURPRISE!” I blinked at what was in front of me. There was a table set up with a cake, and balloons tied to the chairs. Gelsey was there, and my mom, and Warren and Wendy. Kim, Jeff, and Nora were there, along with Davy and Elliot and Fred. Even Leland was there, and I suddenly worried about who was working at the beach. Finally, I saw my dad, sitting in his wheelchair, my grandfather behind him, both of them smiling at me.
“Happy birthday, sweetie,” my mother said, giving me a hug. “I thought we should give you a second chance at a party,” she whispered to me, and I felt myself smile, even though I was also pretty sure I was about to cry.
“Thanks,” I whispered back. My mother ran her hand over my hair for a second, then turned to the table.
“Cake!” she called. “Come and get it!”
I looked around at the crowd, my eyes searching, even though I knew Henry wouldn’t be there. But it wasn’t until I knew he was absent that I realized how much I wanted him to be there. I took a step closer to the table and saw that the Happy Birthday, Taylor was written in his handwriting. My mother started serving up the cake, and I realized that just to the side of it were two small containers of ice cream from Jane’s. I could tell without tasting them that they were raspberry and coconut. “Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual, “where did the ice cream come from?”
“It came with the cake,” she said. “Henry insisted. He said it would bring out the flavor. Wasn’t that nice of him?”
“Yes,” I said, as I took the piece she gave me, which happened to have the T of my name, feeling the lump in my throat. “It really was.”
chapter thirty-five